The End
by SarahSerendipidy-OliviaMaestro
Summary: Prussia has faced many horrors in his life. But now it's the end. And yet, the worst has yet to come. Cold War. Prussia's time seperated from his brother. Rated for language and slight violence. And Russia.
1. Prologue

**Berlin Wall – The End**: Prologue

It had been six long years. Six long years of war, work, killing, rebuilding, winning and now, losing. It wasn't looking good for The Third Reich. Russia was invading from the east, the Allies closing in from the west and south. Italy was captured. Japan was being forced back by the other Asians. There was nowhere to go. No help to be found. They were doomed.

"Bruder! I have just received message from Berlin. They've been massively bombed. It's over. It's the end."

"Shut the fuck up West. We've got other things to worry about now, dammit!"

"But, Gilbert, I _have_ to go back. The Führer needs me."

The albino turned to look at his brother. Ludwig's face was covered in dirt and blood. They'd been through so much together. They've been out in the field together many times. In fact, right now, they were trying to fight the Russians back in this horrid forest. With no success. They were closing in. Prussia flinched as something exploded nearby. They both had known that it was a matter of time before Berlin was surrounded. But neither of them had expected it to go that fast.

"I see," said Gilbert.

He looked solemnly at his brother. They were both worn out. They've been fighting for so long now. So very long … He'd almost forgotten why they had started all this. The rise of the Third Reich, with Adolf Hitler as their leder, their boss. Prussia had been so proud of his little bruder. He was at his highest, reaching all the corners of the world. But so many lives had been lost for the rebuilding of the great German Empire. In the beginning, it was worth it. They'd do anything. The others should pay for what they had done. But now… All that was left of their great empire was a ruin soaked in blood.

"I'm staying here. They need my assistance here," he finally stated. Ludwig looked bewildered. A grenade landed nearby and Prussia quickly threw it back, ducking as it exploded mid-air.

"But, Bruder, Russia is…"

"I know very well what Russia is doing!" Prussia snapped. "And you need all the time you can have to reach Berlin, every last fucking minute!"

"I am not leaving you behind!" Germany yelled back.

"West, just do as I say, dammit! This is _not _the time to discuss that matter!" Prussia sneered. He grabbed Ludwig by his shirt and pulled him down with an incredible strength so that they were at eyelevel.

"Look, West, you're going to Berlin and do your duty there, and I'm staying here to help the men." His eyes softened and he held his little brother's face with both his hands. "I know you're worried, but I'm going to be fine, okay? I'm your awesome big bruder. I'm gonna make it. And so are you. You got that?"

Germany nodded quietly. Suddenly he pulled out his gun and shot some soldier behind Prussia, who didn't even flinch. Germany slowly stood up again, Prussia following him. Prussia had that look in his eyes, Germany thought, looking in his brothers ruby red eyes. That damned look of persistence. And Ludwig knew that he couldn't do anything about it. Gilbert was staying here.

"So.. This is goodbye, bruder."

"Don't you fucking dare say it like we're never going to see each other again. I'll find you, okay?"

Germany slowly nodded again. Prussia smirked at him.

"Oh, and West.. Ask Hitler how his plan's going."

A small smile cracked on Ludwig's lips. Even in situations like these, it was always his brother who knew what to say. But Ludwig trusted him. He then backed away from Prussia, who turned back to face the horrors in the forest, his gun held high, waiting for the Russian soldiers. And as Germany turned away, his guns raised as well, he heard it. That sound. The silent and sickening sound of something being ripped apart and a bullet entering the flesh followed by an echoing crack as the bones broke.

"Sheiβe!" the Prussian swore as the bullet entered his leg. Germany turned quickly and rushed back to his brother who collapsed on the ground. As he came near him, Gilbert merely raised his gun at him.

"Ludwig, you have to go _now_!" he hissed.

"Bruder, you are hurt, I cannot leave you in a state like this!"

"It's just a goddamn bullet, I've taken tons of them before."

"Gilbert, your leg snapped! You're not able to move!" Gilbert looked testily at him.

"Bullshit."

"Gilbert!"

"West, I'm _fine_, now leave before I shoot a hole through you instead!"

His younger brother looked hurt at him. He wouldn't, no, _couldn't_ possibly leave his older brother to the mercy of Russia.

"They'll find you."

"As long as they don't find you, West." His brother answered solemnly. "Now go."

Never before had Germany experienced anything harder than leaving his brother behind.

Prussia looked after his brother and he moved quickly through the forest and back towards the camp. He then sighed heavily. He looked at his leg again, watching the blood seep quietly through his trousers. He took a knife out of his boot and came out with a long string of swearwords at he dug into his leg, attempting to scratch out the bullet.  
>He hissed through his teeth, wincing as the pain shooted through his leg. Once the bullet was out, he ripped off some of his shirt, binding his wound tightly. He then attempted to stand up by pulling himself up a tree for support. Once he stood up, he shifted his weight to the other leg, pulling his gun up and reloaded with a soft click. He heard a shuffling behind him. Gilbert spun around quickly and pointed his gun at a bush, shifting his leg. He slowly moved forwards, keeping the gun in front of him. He pushed the bush aside with the tip of his gun revealing … Nothing.<p>

Suddenly he turned to his right and fired. He ducked and limped to the left as the fire was returned. He sat there quietly and followed the sound and shot again, this time hearing a 'thump' from the bushes. He cautiously neared the soldier. The man was scrambling on the ground, attempting to receive his gun again. Realizing it was too far away, he pulled out a small handgun, pointing it at Gilbert, his hand shaking. Gilbert kicked the gun out of his hand and fired at the man's head. The body collapsed onto the dirt, blood colouring the ground. He reloaded his gun yet again. But, apparently, there was an echo. For right after he cocked his own gun, the same sound was heard behind him. Prussia froze.

"Drop ze gun," a man with a thick Russian accent said behind him. Gilbert made a quickly decision. He could either try to fire at the man and kill him, or just hurt him and try to run. Except, he couldn't run. So how big was the chance that he could shoot the other dead, without being shot himself first? Gilbert threw down his gun.

"Turn around slovely." Gilbert heaved a sigh as he limped around, facing the man. He wore a Russian uniform, had ash-blond hair, a dirty, not amused face and a very, very big gun pointed at Gilbert. The man looked strangely at Gilbert. He stared into the eyes of the Prussian but quickly flickered them away again.

"Глаза дьявола," he mumbled. Then he grabbed the walkie-talkie on his hip and yelled into it.

"30042 contacting ze baze, I repeat 30042 contacting ze baze, can you hear me?" Soon after a crunching reply was heard. "Da, I've found … _him_. The albino. Njet, I do not see his brother. Da. Da. Njet. Of courze. Coming now, over."

The man looked back at Gilbert, avoiding his eyes. He then motioned with his gun that he should move. And so, Gilbert walked to the Russian Camp, a gun at his back the whole way. He didn't say a thing. Normally he would've insulted the soldier, but as he thought about his current situation, he decided that now probably wasn't the best time.

'Oh well,' he thought. 'At least Ludwig got away. And maybe Russia won't be too hard on me…' Gilbert knew very well that that was a lie.

The first thing he was greeted with when he arrived to the camp, was a tall man, the drenching smell of vodka and the line:

"Ze mighty Prussian Empire… Gilbert Beilscmidt. You are_ mine_ now."

**A/N:**

**So here goes my first chapter! (Actually it's the prolouge, but eh)  
>You are free to leave a comment on what you thought about it.<br>In fact, you have to.**

**Kidding!**

**But it would be awesome.**

Translation stuff! :

Sheiβe = Shit

Глаза дьявола = The eyes of the devil himself.

Btw, β is like 'ss'. For an example, Pruβen


	2. The Meeting

Chapter one – The Meeting

Prussia had stayed with the Red Army for about a month by now. He had heard no word from Germany. He was kept inside the Russians camp most of the time. Well, actually, all the time. He had his own tent, but that was only because Ivan specifically had ordered that. There were also two guards outside, making sure he didn't try to escape. Not that he could run very well at the moment, but hey, he was awesome, he could do anything if he (or his leg) wanted to.

Still, some of the Russians enjoyed visiting and mocking him, even though they didn't know who he truly was. To them, he was just an unlucky German soldier, who also happened to have killed some of their comrades. The rest of the soldiers didn't dare getting near him. Gilbert knew they called him things as "The Devil", even though they said it in Russian. He'd experienced it in the German camp before, but he had been a general at that time, so no one dared make fun of him there.  
>But Gilbert quickly learned to ignore them.<br>Except when they discussed the fate of Berlin. Gilbert felt sick when he heard of the things that happened there. He felt even sicker because he knew that German soldiers had done the same to Russian villages. He had always gone to war proud. Maybe because he nearly always won. It's the winner who writes the history. But now…

"I have word from Berlin!" a Russian soldier burst in shouting, two or three others following shortly. Gilbert's head snapped up, his fiery red eyes searching the others. He was sitting down on a brink, not saying anything, but waiting.

"They have found Hitler's remainz - Your 'Führer' is dead! You have lost!" he said, mocking the German language. The other Russians beamed and cackled. Gilbert suspected that they probably had been drinking a whole lot of vodka. They didn't have much else to do anyway.

"Well, good," Gilbert merely answered. "What about the other armies?" The Russians stared dumbstruck at him.

"You do not care zat your leader is dead?" one of them asked. Gilbert glared at them.

"You want me to care? It's not like I can do anything from here… Dummkopf. " Suddenly one of the Russians kneed Gilbert in the stomach, spitting on the ground before him afterwards. Gilbert recoiled, coughing harshly.

"You are a traitor," the Russian spat. "And a pathetic soldier. Not caring for your own leader. " He stared disgustedly at him and then walked out of the tent, the others following shortly. Gilbert glanced after them.

"Yeah, like you love your leader so much..." he murmured.

Two days later the official papers of Germanys surrender were signed. The war in Europe was over. The day after Germanys surrender, Russia came back. And he was furious. His silent rage was inflicted upon Prussia, maybe just because he was there.  
>He was convenient.<p>

He felt another smash to his head and the warmth as blood trickled down through his hair. His head was dizzy, and he couldn't focus properly. But the figure in front of him stood tall, swinging his pipe, letting the small droplets of blood spin around in the tent. Gilbert tried to move his arms, but remembered that they were bound to the chair that imprisoned him. He didn't say anything. Not because he didn't dare – heck, he had loads of things he wanted so badly to shout at Russia. But right now, his head simply couldn't put the words together. Maybe also because he had a sock stopped in his mouth.

"I was _so_ close. He was within my reach. And then that идиот appears out of nowhere…"

Thump. Gilbert's arm was limp now. He winced and growled through the sock.

"And Germany runs right into him. _I_ had conquered Berlin, without their help, and they claim it their victory. Splitting Germany between them, when the whole should have been mine, da? He should become one with me… Ungrateful тараканы… They will pay… Of course they will… Won't they… Prussia..?" he murmured, slowly approaching Prussia. Gilbert followed him with his eyes cursing him silently, leaning away as Russia leaned closer. His breathing became heavier, but Ivan's overshadowed his. The stench of vodka filled his nostrils.

"You'll stay with me…" he whispered, sending goose bumps down Gilbert's spine.

* * *

><p>Germany was worried. He feared for his brother's fate. They hadn't seen each other for nearly half a year now. Russia could've done anything to him. Germany shuddered. It was mere luck when he escaped him. At first he didn't know who'd be worst – the Allies or Russia. It turned out the worst was being separated from his brother. And now The Allies were starting a program to help him back on his legs again. America, England and France were given keys to his house, and they actually came quite often, bringing all sorts of things with them. They were supposed to have a meeting with Russia today and should discuss some different subjects. One of these being his future. His, and his brothers. Germany glanced at America, who was sitting in his living room, reading some random magazine. America looked back and smiled slightly.<p>

"Don't worry dude. We'll get your bro back in no time," he said, guessing what Germany was thinking. At that very moment the phone rang. America put the magazine aside at rose to get the phone.

"Y'ello, Alfred speaking," he said. He nodded. "Mhmhmm.. Yeah. Sure thing. You'll bring Prussia, right? … Sure. See ya later then!" He put the phone down again and smiled almost smugly at Germany.

The meeting was held in Germany's house, since there were no available buildings in any of the larger cities nearby. Berlin was in ruin, but they were in progress in rebuilding the capital. America, England, France, Austria and Germany were present. They had already taken their seats. England and France were annoying each other and America was trying (and failing) to communicate with Austria. Germany kept fidgeting with his papers. What if Russia had forgotten him? What if they didn't come at all? Were they sure he even was alive? Germany's thoughts trailed off, and he tried to ignore them, keeping his posture. But suddenly, they were standing there. Russia... And his brother.

Prussia looked... horrible. He had bags under his eyes, he looked starved and he had a bandage around his head, tufting his hair in all directions. Not to mention the other scrapes on his face and lower arms, some a sick green yellowish color. Germany couldn't see any other damages, but he would bet that Prussias back looked tortured. Nonetheless, Gilbert was looking at his brother, a smile cracked upon his face. Germany rose from his chair, scraping it loudly over the floor. The countries first turned to look at Germay, and afterwards to where he was looking. Prussia shuffled forwards, but Russia held firmly onto his arm. Gilbert glared at him, but he merely smiled.

"Well, that was about time," America said. "Not let's get this started."

The first part of the meeting went quickly by. The countries had discussed finances and economics to which America and Russia disagreed on a lot of the subjects. France was playing with his hair and England was trying to get his attention not even caring what Russia and America was discussing. But Austria didn't want to hear them pick on each other for another hour, so he suggested a break.

Germamy quietly rose from his chair and walked towards his brother, who got up from his chair as well. Prussia smiled.

"Hey West," he simply said. "Long time no see, huh?" Germany nodded.

"It's good to see you're well," he answered. Prussia chuckled and winced slightly afterwards. Germany looked a bit worried but Prussia seemed unfazed, waving his hand dismissively.

"It's just the ribs, I'm fine."

"Hmh.. It will be good to have you back home again," Ludwig stated. Gilbert shifted his feet, looking away from his brother. Germany raised his eyebrow. "You _will _be coming back now, right?" Gilbert kept avoiding his brothers eyes.

"He vill stay with me, da?" Germany turned to look at Russia who had suddenly appeared. He narrowed his eyes.

"What do you mean?" Germany asked slowly. Russia slipped behind him and went to tower over Gilbert. He gripped his shoulder and squeezed it.

"Isn't that right Prussia," he murmured. Prussia didn't answer, he just kept looking away.

"Alright dude, so, here's the deal, kay? Mr Com-... Russia... Will, eh, take care of your brother for some time," America said. Germany looked sternly at him.

"Was? Bruder, is that true?"

"Prussia has no longer the rights to make or answer such statements. And neither do you," England interrupted. "We are still discussing the matters of punishment of you two."

"But it's me wh-…" Prussia began.

"You need permission to speak," Russia said, smiling but squeezing slightly harder on Prussia's shoulder. Gilbert rolled his eyes.

"Permission to speak," he asked dryly.

"Permission granted," France said nodding him on.

"I take the responsibility for my little bruder," he said. "Anything he did, I pressed him to do it."

"Bruder!" Germany hissed. Gilbert looked at him. He had a blank look on his face, but you could hint the concern behind the façade.

"Germany, is that true?" England asked.

"Nein!" he answered harshly.

"Don't lie to yourself Ludwig. If it hadn't been for me, The Third Reich would've been nothing!" Gilbert yelled. He looked into his brothers eyes, trying to make him understand. But  
>Austria nodded. Gilbert turned to look at him.<p>

"Prussia was the biggest military support we had," he confirmed.

"I see. Well, that actually makes it a bit easier," England said. "Question is, what do we do about you?"

"I think he is too dangerous to have around." The group turned to look at Russia again. "Who knows if he vill do it again? We need to keep him down, so we at least can _keep_ our newfound peace."

"Well, he's already under your domain... So what do you suggest we do?" England asked.

"We need to make sure he vill never try to regain power again." Alfred eyed him suspiciously.

"What are you saying?"

* * *

><p>What happened after that, Gilbert tries to forget. But it's hard to ignore the seeping emptiness running through him. It's hard to forget the look of horror in his brother's eyes and the twisting, unpleasant feeling in his stomach as he realized what fate he had laid before himself. When he left with Russia, he overheard a small conversation between England and France.<p>

"I still think we should 'ave given 'im a chance," France said, inhaling from his cigarette. He slowly blew the smoke out his nose.

"Russia had a point. We don't need a third war in a row." England took a small sip from his drink, probably scotch.

"Oui, oui, Angleterre, but we were just as foolish once. You even more so."

"But the scale of events weren't nearly as big as the two of them have done. You do know what they did to Poland, right?" France shook his head sadly and threw the cigarette  
>stump on the ground, squashing it with his shoe.<p>

"It's amazing 'ee survived," France said. "Too bad 'ee is living with Russia now..."

"Eh, let Poland be Poland. He'll find a way. And so will we and so will the rest of the world. This is merely the beginning." He drained his glass.

'No,' thought Gilbert, as he was dragged away by Ivan. 'This is the end.'

* * *

><p><strong>AN **

**The night of April the 29. to the 30., 1945 Hitler first took poison and afterwards shooting himself. His followers burned his remains, so nobody could take hold of his body, like Mussolini's dead body that hanged in publicity for weeks.  
>So no, they did not find Hitler's body. Just his remains.<br>And at May the 2. the Germans signed their surrender.**

**And Ivan is talking about the Russian invasion of Berlin. They arrived first, but the Allies took responsibility of the Capital and the west of Germany.  
>And Ivan is maybe overreacting. A little. But he <strong>_**is**_** a maniac sometimes. M'just saying.**

**Oh, last fun fact "Let Poland be Poland" was actually a quote by the English Queen!**

**Translations:**

**Идиот = Idiot**

**Тараканы = Cockroaches**

**If you have any questions, you just fire away.**

**And yes, I did imply a little FrUK. Cuz I can.**


	3. The Wall that Divides Us

Chapter Two – The Wall That Divides Us

He hardly ever saw his brother after that day. _Hardly_ being the keyword. They did meet, and when they did, it wasn't a pretty sight Germany saw. Prussia looked more and more sick for ever time they met. Germany didn't look all that good himself. But he could come by, mostly by the help of America, England and France. They provided him with what he needed, and helped picking up the pieces. They appeared to have accepted that it was Hitler who had done the deeds, and he was dead. Germany was a different country now. A broken one. So insuring that it wouldn't happen again, they kept him under tight rules, for his own sake. They were helping him. But Prussia was in Russia's hands. Actually, he wasn't Prussia anymore.

Prussia didn't exist.

Prussia was dead.

Now, he was officially "East Germany". It was arranged after the meeting. The other countries had concluded that Prussia was simply too dangerous to still have around. He had kept insisting that if it wasn't for him, none of it would've happened. And the others complied. So they dissolved him.

He was never the same after that.

Germany had no idea about how he felt.

In fact, he didn't know if he _could_ feel any more. Whenever they met, they were being watched constantly. That big tower was shadowing Gilbert, not to mention the ones watching Germany's every move. Prus-... Gilbert didn't have a chance to tell him how he felt. There was no way Germany could help him, even if he wanted to. But Gilbert was always there, right in front of him. All he had to do was reach out say the simple words.

But the truth was, they never were that close. Physically, yes, they were allowed to shake hands and so on. But there was a wall of politics and agreements and deals between them. But this wasn't made by them. This was created by the people behind them. Germany and what was left of Prussia were only the puppets. The master puppeteers were Russia and America, pulling each their strings. The big bullies.

Russia turned out to be the biggest. One day, out of the blue, he closed off all the borders to East Berlin. No one could get in or out. No food could get in. No people could get out and get some. He was starving the them. Germany had begged the Allies for weeks to send provisions in and in the end they agreed. America flew countless time over the borders and threw down provisions to the starving people. After almost a year, Russia finally realized it was no use, and removed the blockage again.

But now they were separated again.

By a _real _wall.

* * *

><p>Twelve years came and went. Gilbert and Ludwig hardly saw each other. There was nothing they could do about it. Gilbert cursed the people who stole their time. True, countries lived almost forever, but he wasn't a country anymore was he? He kicked a trashcan, but continued walking. The autumn night was cold. Gilbert shuddered and pulled his thin coat up, crossing his arms. Most people were cuddled up in their beds at this time. The people who were still roaming the streets gave him a few strange looks as he passed by. Gilbert ignored them. That was all he did. Pretend they weren't looking at him. Pretended he wasn't there. He didn't <em>feel<em> like he was there anymore.  
>He had become a ghost.<p>

Twelve years. Not feeling anything. Most people would've gone mad. Not him, though. He needed to hold on. Hold on to the only thing he could. His brother. He walked around a corner, halted his walking and stared ahead.

"What the hell…?"

His path was blocked by a giant barbed wire. Behind the barbed wires lay a small pile of sandbags. He followed the wire with his eyes, spotting a few guards along the line. Behind the barricade there were some people who'd started bricking up what looked like a wall. Gilbert walked down to one of the guards.

"Was es das?" he spat. The guard started at him with wide eyes. Gilbert waited patiently for him to get over the worst of the chock. Apparently albinos weren't normal around here. Shame, Gilbert thought dryly.

"N-none of your business," he then stuttered in German. Gilbert's eye twitched. He wanted to shout at the guard. But he knew it wasn't his fault. No. It was someone else. Someone, who had tried it cutting them off before.

"Russia," he sneered, leaving a confused guard behind.

It was only a common Wednesday.

* * *

><p>Time passed again. Gilbert refused to stay with him after that. Of course, he didn't say it.<p>

Not directly.

But Russia probably got the unspoken message when he found out that Gilbert wasn't there anymore. He was probably furious. But so was Gilbert. Because he wasn't able at all to see West now. Gilbert knew he couldn't hide forever, but he had to make the best of his new, but only half, freedom.  
>Almost right after when he ran away, the first thing he did was to send a message with Gilbird, telling West to meet at a specific point at the wall. He didn't mention anything about Russia.<p>

He watched the wall from the shadows. It looked… Well, horribly big. But in front of the wall itself was a hell of a show. He could see the dogs and the watchtowers and the guards from where he stood. Lights flashed across the whole area.  
>He knew most of the schedule by now – he knew when which soldiers passed by and who it was. He had gotten an idea about how to slip past the watchtowers as well. All he needed to know now was where the minefields were buried.<p>

Yeah, good luck with that, he thought to himself. It's not like there's a big sign pointing to all of the bombs.

Nonetheless, after checking again that no one was in sight, he stepped out of the shadows, and hunched down so he was still a bit hidden. He shuffled towards the barbered wires, cutting a small path through them. After the wires there was a big, bare field. He gripped a long stick on his back, pulling out a meter long pole with a brick attached to the end. He took a deep breath and slowly patted the ground in front of him. No explosion. That's a good sign. With his pole, Gilbert checked the ground he stepped upon, seeking forwards like a blind man.

He succeeded in crossing the minefield without losing any limbs. Next step: the dogs.

Luckily, the dogs were an easy part. Just a slice of meat each and they would keep quiet. Gilbert looked behind him and looked up at the guard towers.

The guard was asleep.

Gilbert chuckled and continued crossing the guard's walking-path. He then jumped across the small path of sand. The sand was there so the guards would be able to spot if there were any footprints. Gilbert knew that. He finally reached the Wall, leaning close up against it, hiding in the shadows. His heart was thumping in his chest. He stayed flush against the wall, silently walking towards the place they had agreed to meet. When he finally arrived in front of the exact building they'd agreed on he called out in a whisper.

"West. West, you there? … Ludwig?"

He waited for a moment. No reply. He started getting nervous. What if he hadn't received his message? He stayed still, hoping none of the guards would pass now. Seconds ticked by.

They seemed forever.

"Ludwig, answer me," he hissed. His heart was trashing against his chest.

"Gilbert? Is that you?"

His brother's voice was muffled through the small hole in the wall, but Gilbert heard him. He breathed out relieved. He turned to look at the hole, but it was too small to see Germany through it.

"It is indeed the awesome me," he replied cracking a smile for the first time in a long while.

He could hear his brother chuckled slightly.

"It's good to hear you again. How are you?"

"I'm … making my way. You? Are the other guys treating you well?"

"Yeah. They can't agree sometimes, but then again it is France and England we're talking about. They all freaked out when they saw Russia was building a wall. Thought he was starting war. But he did it legally, I guess. He only built on your side." There was a small pause. "Why is he keeping you there Gilbert?" his brother asked. It reminded Gilbert of a bit of a small boy asking his parents questions of why everything is as it is.

"I don't know."

Silent again.

"I miss you," Germany's soft voice said. It went right through the wall and hit Gilbert hard in the chest. His heart ached. He leaned his head again the wall, wishing so deeply it wasn't there. "Gilbert, what are you _feeling_?" Ludwig asked. He felt a lump in his throat.

"Nothing," he whispered in reply. "It's empty West. I can't… I can't feel my people. It's just… I …" he trailed off. He didn't know what to say.

Something had changed.

Suddenly he turned around and faced East Berlin, watching the watchtowers. A new man had appeared in the tower. He could recognize that tall man anywhere. He was coming.

"Oh Gott," he whispered, feeling the blood rush from his face. He turned back to the wall.

"Gilbert? Are you still there?"

"Listen, we don't have much time left."

"Wait, what do you mean? Gilbert?"

"West, just listen to me. Oh _S__hiβe_… He's found me."

The man had looked directly where Gilbert stood. He saw the man leave the tower, talking to some guards. Ludwig shuffle against the wall.

"What do you mean, 'he's found you' Gilbert?"

"Shut the fuck up, and _listen_ to me. I… I need you to promise me something."

"Anything," his brother replied.

"Promise me… Promise me you won't forget me," Gilbert whispered.

"Bruder, what are you talki…-"

"_Promise me._"

Germany still isn't sure about what happened. He heard was Russia's voice interrupting them and Gilbert shouting back at him. He heard someone struggling and more than once something that sounded like someone being kicked and a crack.

Ludwig couldn't help him.

All he could do was to listen to his brother being taken away, to a fate he didn't want to think of. He still remembers Gilbert's request. But Gilbert probably hadn't heard his brother's reply.

"I promise," he had whispered back.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**

**Oh the angst.  
>I love it, don't you?<strong>

The first part is Germany telling the story, and he mentions the Wall, yeah? And then it jumps to Prussia telling 12 years went by _until_ the wall was built. Germany is telling from a bit further on than Prussia, in case you should ask. Like, he's looking back and telling the story.  
>Hope that made sense.<p>

Any other questions, you just fire away.

And I WILL see this through to the end! (Haha, nice pun, don't ya think?)

**Dates and numbers (In case you're interested):**

1947 – the Official Dissolution of Prussia  
>24th June, 1948 to 11th May, 1949 - the Berlin Blockade<br>13th August 1961 – The first setup of the Berlin Wall was placed. To begin with, it was really just a barbed wire, but they built on it and less than a year later the "Wall of Shame" stood tall.

**Translations:**

Was es das = What is this


	4. His Last Letter

His Last Letter

Time went by as it always does.

Gilbert could barely catch up. Then again, he could barely stand. But that was only for some time. He healed. But as soon as he did, Russia would come by again with his pipe. Gilbert hated that pipe. For every reason there was, he hated it. This night was just the same as the others. After Russia had found him, he was determined to hold on to him. When they arrived to where Gilbert stayed, he pulled out the pipe and used to so many times against Gilbert he didn't even know who he was.  
>He thought he was Prussia.<br>But he wasn't. And that was the truth. He learned that. From his good friend, the pipe.

That night was only one of many. They all ended the same. A crumpled, bloody, sad excuse of a body lay in the flat. Old scars opened, new were made.

Ivan nudged him with his foot. Gilbert groaned. He turned to look at him, holding a hand over his leg and trying to stop the bleeding.

"What?" he hissed. "You want to announce I can go and rest now? Want to tell me it's over? … It's not, is it? It never will be."

Russia crouched down in front of him. He slid the pipe under his chin holding his face up, examining it. He looked in those deep red eyes with flames ablaze. They were still burning.

"You vill not speak to me in this way," he said quietly.

Gilbert spat him in the face. He pushed the pipe away and crawled further away from the man. The monster.

"You don't decide that. I'll talk like I want to. And if I don't say it out loud, you know I'm thinking it." His eyes shined. "You'll never take that away from me, try as you might."

Ivan stood up, cleaning the spit off with his sleeve.

"Let us see about that."

Gilbert couldn't remember what else happened that night. A part of him doesn't want to. But, as he said, the days went on and he got by. There were good days and bad days – sunshine and storms. The sun didn't come out all that much, but when it did it was almost worth it.

One of these days was only a few months after the incident at the Wall. Gilbert wasn't allowed near it again, but it didn't stop him trying. But that day he had just been strolling along the streets minding his own business. Of course it had been at night, because he couldn't stand how everyone was looking at him in the day. His pale, white skin and his red eyes. They weren't normal. He wasn't normal. But he never had been. Anyway, there weren't many people out that night, but there was one man. Others wouldn't have noticed him. If Gilbert actually had anything to do, he'd probably ignored the man as well.

He had walked in front of a building, looking around as if he was checking something. Gilbert raised his eyebrow and took a closer look at the man. He had dark curled hair, but that was all he could see from the distance between them. When the man walked into the house, Gilbert followed. He had become quite good at stalking people. Mainly because then he knew when someone was stalking him. That man was looking out for something alright.

The building was just any normal urban apartment complex. Gilbert followed the man up to third floor or something until he went into one of the rooms. Gilbert stopped outside the door. He listened. Yes. Yes, there were some voices.

"It's good to see you again."

"Let's get it started."

"Have you had contact with my brother?"

"Ja. He's fine. Already started a new life."

"Hmh... Do you know what they call the Wall these days? _Der Antifaschistische__ Schutzwall_. More like Der Antifaschistische_ Shiβe _Wall, ja?"

Gilbert held his breath and staggered away from the door. Was it..?

The voices continued talking. It took a few moments before Gilbert had pulled himself together to open the door. It creaked loudly and both men turned to look. One of them were standing, the other sat. Fear flashed across their faces. The man Gilbert had followed quickly stood up. They stared at each other. Gilbert closed the door behind him and quietly walked towards them, but they stumbled further back.

"A-are you a ghost?" one of them suddenly stuttered. Gilbert sighed. They didn't know.

"Do I look like one?" he asked testily. The other man, the one with the curly hair, was about to answer, when Gilbert shot him a look that just told him to shut up.

"Are you from Stasi?" he asked instead. Gilbert looked confused. They thought he was from the police? Now, why would they think that?

"No."

"Then who are you?" the other asked.

"I could ask you the same. Why are you sneaking around in the middle of the night? You're not supposed to be out at this hour."

"Why do you care?" he shot back.

"Because you two seem to be up to something. Something you shouldn't be doing, am I right?" Gilbert said, trying to get some information out of them. They still wouldn't answer. He sighed again.

"Alright. I'll tell you who I am, and you tell me who you are. I'm Gilbert Beilschmidt. I'm not from Stasi. I'm not here to turn you over to the Stasi. In fact, I don't have anything to do with the Stasi. I'm just… Curious."

The two men looked at each other.

"I'm Holger Bethke and this here is my friend, Michael Becker."

And then he told Gilbert the whole story. The two men were trying to escape. They were trying to flee from the suppression of the communists. Holger had wanted to join his older brother who lived in West Germany and had escaped the previous year. He and Michael had met up at these late hours to discuss their own escape plans. The trouble was… They weren't going too well. They had no idea how to cross the border. But Gilbert did.

* * *

><p>And so they came to plan out a brilliant plan. In fact, it was <em>awesome<em>. It truly was. They would be telling it for years to come… if it worked, that is. They spent almost a year planning and practicing it. They even contacted Holger's brother who was a vital part of the plan. And, one night in mid-spring, they were ready.

"Are you sure you're not coming?"

"It's not like we can change that now," Gilbert chuckled. "No. I have to stay here. It's … Eh… Complicated."

Holger grabbed the albinos shoulder.

"Wish us luck."

He turned around to walk up the stairs, but Gilbert grabbed him elbow.

"I do have _one_ request."

And with that Holger and Michael sneaked up through the building, up to the roof. The building they were in was the closest place to West Berlin and where the Wall was slimmest. Gilbert prayed that their plan would work. He liked to think that it was his people he was helping escape. That Russia couldn't hold onto him forever. His thoughts were interrupted when a loud bang went through the building. He froze.

"Oh shit," he muttered. He waited.

None of the inhabitants woke up. They slept through the whole show. Gilbert wished he could see it, but someone had to stand guard, right? And he did. The whole night. There were no alarms sound. No dogs barking. No sign that they had been caught. When morning came he quietly walked up to the roof where Michael and Holger had escaped from. He grinned. All that was left was a bow, one arrow and the steel wire. They had really managed it. He laughed.

* * *

><p>Ludwig had no idea how they did it. All of West Germany was talking about them. The Bethke brothers. Succeeding the impossible. And of course was his brother involved in it. Only he could have suggested such an utterly impossible idea.<p>

Gliding across the Berlin Wall...

On a zipline.

He shook his head and smiled. The man who sat across him smiled as well.

"I'm glad to have met you," Holger said. "Gilbert spoke often of you."

Ludwig's smile faltered. Even though it was good to hear of him, it still hurt when he was reminded that he could never see him. Holger moved slightly in his chair. He reached inside his jacket and brought out a letter.

"He told me to give you this."

Ludwig accepted the letter as if it might have broken if he grabbed it too hard.

"Thank you," he muttered. They shook hands and Holger disappeared out the door. Ludwig turned the letter around with shaking hands. It was indeed addressed to him. He took a deep breath and opened it. When he had reread it the 3rd time it had finally sunk it. He sank down where he stood, leaning against the wall. He tried to control his breathing, tried to stop the tears.

He failed.

* * *

><p><em>To my brother, Ludwig Beilschmidt<em>

_I'm afraid we won't see each other for a while. I know that we've already haven't seen each other that much, but I'm (apparently) moving in with Ivan. In his real house, in Russia. Somewhere. I wish I could tell you where I'll go, but firstly I'm not allowed, and secondly I actually have no idea where his house is.  
>Don't worry about me. I'm awesome, I'll get by. Besides, then I've got Eliza to watch after me.<br>__Don't forget me.  
>Take care.<em>

_Gilbert Beilschmidt_

* * *

><p><strong>AN**

I think almost every chapter from now on is going to have something with a crazy Russia.

Sounds good, right?

Alright, this chapter is actually based on real events. Not the first part, mind you. No, the story of the Bethke Brothers. They were really awesome, I'll tell you that. The first one, Ingo Bethke, he escaped across a river on a mattress. His youngest brother, Holger followed some time later with, I'm seriously not joking, a bow and arrow. They shot a rope to a building across the wall where Ingo was waiting and then they(Holger and Michael) glided across on a ropeway. Even more years passed by until they saved their last brother, Egbert. And guess what. They flew across the Wall in _mini-planes_ to save him. They filmed most of the thing actually. Awesome, or what? I thought so, so I wrote it in the story xD  
>Except this is very early after the Wall was built(according to my timeline) and Holger didn't escape until some years later, but eh… I can just imagine Prussia helping with an escape plan like that xD<p>

**Translation! :**

Der Antifaschistischer Schutzwall = The Anti Fascistic Protection Wall

Antifaschistischer Shiβe Wall = The Anti Fascistic _Shit_ Wall

**And for those** who don't know - the Italiens were fascistic... I find it hilarious that the Communistic gouverment tried to convince the East Germans that the wall was there to protect them from the ITALIENS.

Seriously.


End file.
